My Fate I Accept
by FarAnya
Summary: John's thoughts after My Three Crichtons


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MY FATE I ACCEPT

by FarAnya

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Author's note: This story is based on **_My Three Crichtons_** and contains spoilers for that episode. Disclaimer: As usual, all the characters of Farscape are properties of Jim Henson, etc. I'd like to again thank the writers, producers and actors for letting me play too. I love this playground. Thank you, Kelly, for all your encouragement. It makes the struggle to put words on paper so worthwhile.

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You did what you thought was right.

And I did what I knew was wrong.

It was the least developed one of me… the one I thought least likely… who did the right thing.

My fate… I accept.

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The words keep echoing in my head. I can't seem to shake them loose. I'm afraid I'll go to my grave hearing them.

Seeing his eyes…

As I sit here in the cell where I first met Aeryn… where we imprisoned Crais… where we imprisoned him… me… As I sit here trying to come to grips with the sacrifice he made for me and the rest of us, I find myself re-examining just about every action I have taken… every word I have spoken since coming aboard Moya.

Tonight, all I have are questions… I don't have any answers. You know – I never claimed to know all the answers. Hell, usually I don't even know all the questions. But where did I lose that… what's the word… that… innocence. Not innocence of thought. I'm talking about the innocence of heart. When did I lose it?

I told Chiana that I'd always thought of myself as one of the good guys. What happened? I wonder if it has something to do with being chased by Crais and Scorpius. Did they suck it out of me in the Aurora Chair?

I was ready to sacrifice an innocent creature to save my sorry ass. Jeez, who died and made me god? What gave me the right to decide that I should live, that Brainiac should live, but that Caveman shouldn't? What unmitigated gall.

I think the only thing that is keeping me from grabbing a pulse pistol and blowing my brains out is the memory that I argued against the future Crichton when the sphere told us what it wanted. I couldn't countenance… any of us… being fed back into that thing. 

But was that as altruistic as I want to believe it was? I think it must have been pity… partly. I hadn't spent much time with my primitive self to know if there was any intelligence behind that Neanderthal brow. I didn't take the time to see for myself what Chiana had obviously discovered – that there was not only intelligence there, but feelings as well. A person. A person with honor and dignity. All I could see was the hair and teeth… the animal.

Until it was too late. Oh – God.

My fate… I accept. 

My primitive self knew… long before I did… that I had to stay here. That he and my futuristic self had to go back into the sphere. 

I wanted to stay. I thought it was my right to stay. But then the cold logic of my future self turned my thoughts inside out. I found myself almost hypnotized by his voice. Yes, we were more advanced than Caveman. Yes, we deserved to live and he wasn't needed. 

It wasn't until I went to get him and discovered that Chiana had helped him hide that I realized that my primitive version had as much right to live as I did… maybe even more. In my heart, I think, I was glad that she had freed him, although it took a little while longer for my head to agree.

When I found him in the shaft, and looked into his eyes – my… eyes – I knew that I couldn't ask him to die for me. I could sense his fear. But it was what I saw in his eyes that changed my mind. I saw the innocence of heart that I had lost. 

Now I had to figure out how to get my future self to enter the sphere. When I walked back into Maintenance Bay, I knew that he wasn't going to go… not willingly anyway. I used every bit of reasoning I could come up with… that he would always be the outsider if he stayed and I went into the sphere. The primitive Crichton stood a better chance of becoming a true member of the crew.

It was the primitive me that ended up doing the right thing. He killed the future Crichton and then proceeded to carry him into the sphere. I tried… sort of… to get him to stay, but he was right; this was not his time – he did not belong here. I knew what he meant… there have been many times when I have felt that I don't belong here either. But my primitive self knew that this is my place… my time.

My fate.

I accept.

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THE END


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